Once Again, With Feeling
by WatchMeSoar
Summary: Short prequel to the shorter "Where Priorities Lie." Coming back from the dead can really pack an emotional punch. For safety, it's rated for Gabriel's mouth.


**A/n: Hey look, another thing that I wrote in forty minutes and didn't want to edit! And whoops, it's a prequel to _Where Priorities Lie_. **

**You know, I have other stories that I should work on. Like, actual stories with chapters and plot lines but nope, I write _fluff_. Should I be ashamed? Probably. _Am_ I ashamed?**

 **Absolutely not, now sit down and read feelings.**

 **I own nothing.**

III

"Persephone's tits, I _hurt_."

As far as first conscious words go, Chuck supposed that those were as good as any. He leaned against the wall, watching the youngest of His First awaken.

Gabriel slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, groggily rubbing his head. He took a moment to assess himself before he he took in his surroundings. Chuck remains quiet, allowing him time.

When Gabriel turned his attention to Him, he looked even more confused. "Chuck Shurley?" he asked. He tried to stand, but Chuck was there in an instant with a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him down to the bed. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping you." He said it quietly, reverently. It had been a long time since He'd helped His children.

Gabriel smirked weakly. "How could you help me? No offense, but archangel sort of trumps prophet."

Chuck nodded passively. "That's true. But I sort of trump either one."

Gabriel looked up sharply, stared straight at Chuck with wide eyes. "No, you…shit."

Chuck made to place His hand on His son's brow, but Gabriel swiftly swatted His hand away and stood, forcing Chuck to take a half-step back. Gabriel postured himself, doing his best to stop swaying and keeping his gaze fixed on Chuck. "You ass. You bastard. What's the big idea?"

Chuck regarded His son, His youngest archangel, with sorrow. He remembered a time then Gabriel had had the brightest laughter in Heaven, when his smirks and smiles weren't marred by pain and cynicism. Gabriel, out of all of His Heavenly Host, had possessed the biggest heart. And Chuck's own now broke at the sight of the hatred and distrust radiating from him now.

Gabriel, quickly bringing himself out of his shock, shot Chuck a sharp smirk. "So, Daddy-o. How's it hangin'?"

His voice was frigid, and it pained Chuck even more. He sighed. "My son, I've made a mistake."

"Well. Give God a gold star."

Chuck didn't stumble at Gabriel's words. He'd expected as much. "I realize now that, in trying to fix things, I made then worse. I thought that since it had been my fault, things would get better if I left them alone. But I was wrong. And my creations have suffered for it. But more importantly…more importantly, my children have suffered for it."

Chuck held His gaze level with Gabriel's, seeing that His son;s eyes had gone glassy, though his stare was still sharp and his grin still bitter. Chuck tried once again to reach out to him. This time, He was not rejected, and His hand settled solidly on Gabriel's shoulder.

Gabriel only shook his head, and let out a humorless laugh. "You left us. You left, and you come back now? Why?"

Chuck sighed again. "Your aunt Amara came for a visit."

"She got out?"

"Yup."

"…Was it the Winchesters?"

"Got it on one."

"Figures," Gabriel said, ad Chuck couldn't help but feel a bit of loss at the fact that the quirk of Gabriel'd lips at the thought of the brothers was more genuine than anything that had been sent His way. He cleared His throat.

"They're actually, sort of the reason I've brought you back. They could use an archangel's help."

"Putting Amara away?"

"No, no. That's been handled. But we had to get help from Lucifer, among others, and now—"

"Now wait a minute," Gabriel said, holding up a finger. "You needed an archangel and, with all your options, you went to the Devil for help?"

"You say that like I _had_ any options," Chuck said. "You and Raphael were dead, I didn't have time to bring you back. Michael and Lucifer were both in the Cage, and Michael…hasn't adjusted well. Lucifer was it."

Gabriel had gone sheet-white and silence reigned in the room. Then, in a voice too small for an all-powerful archangel: "Raphael is dead?"

Chuck cringed and looked down. He'd forgotten for a moment just how much Gabriel had missed. "A lot has happened, Gabriel. I'm sure the Winchesters and Castiel will fill you in." He sure wasn't up for it.

Gabriel looked the slightest bit hesitant, and Chuck was struck with distant memories of him as a fledgeling. "Will you…will you bring Raphi back, too?"

Chuck shook His head slightly. "Not yet. I want to, but I can't yet. Ask Castiel. As I said, much has happened, and your little brother has been in the think of most of it."

Gabriel nodded and looked away, fixing his eyes on a point over Chuck's shoulder. He drew a deep breath, exhaled, and he seemed to be back to himself. "Alrighty then," he took the time to (perhaps a bit dramatically) stretch out his arms and roll his neck, shaking off the feeling of being rebuilt from the primordial ground up. "Now what?"

And a nanosecond later, Gabriel stood alone in a lived-in-looking cinderblock hole.

Moments after that, a heavy door was opening, admitting two overgrown hunters, a blonde who looked more capable than either of them, and an angel in a… _was he still wearing that trench coat? For Dad's sake, kid._

Gabriel leaned back against the table and waited. Sure enough, there was a _sheenk_ of an angel blade and the cocking of three guns.

Then, "Gabriel?"

The archangel smiled wide. "Hey bro."


End file.
